Gateway
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Turns out there's more than one Atlantis in Pegasus...


**Gateway**

The city was called Atlantis.

It was a bit confusing, really, and John was surprised that no-one had pointed it out. That, or it was one of those things that no-one commented on because the need to comment on it was so obvious that to do so would come off as stating the obvious and therefore, what Ford would call a "no shit, Sherlock" moment. Then Rodney would counter by the fact that such language was quite inappropriate for the works of Arthur Conan Doyle, and that everyone got Watson's characterization wrong in adaptations, and then the mission would go south real quick.

But it was still called Atlantis. A city on the planet of BBC-003, or as Teyla had called it, Poseidos. It was ancient, it was primitive, it was like something one might have found on Earth thousands of years ago. And that it shared the name of an Ancient city that was a figure of myth for many of the cultures of Pegasus was something that the locals were ignorant of, or pretended to be ignorant of.

"Lantea? Never heard of it."

"What in Poseidon's name are you talking about?"

Poseidon. That was freaky enough – it was the kind of thing a goa'uld would do, take the name of one of humanity's ancient gods. From what he'd read, there actually had been a goa'uld called Poseidon, even if the Stargate Program had never encountered him personally. That, or it was another mother of coincidences going on.

No member of AR-1 had cared. They needed a ZPM module, and they needed it fast. And they needed to be done with their business quickly, because scuttlebutt was that there was to be a sacrifice to a minotaur the next day, with the city's king far too busy to see anyone right now.

_Figures._

So they'd split up. Get the lay of the land, find out what they could, and meet back on the beach where the stargate was. Piece of cake. And liking to think himself an intelligent man, John Shepherd had gone to what the locals called the Temple of Poseidon. Because if there was one thing sci-fi had taught him, it was that temples always contained good stuff.

"Hello?" he asked, entering the structure. "Anyone home?"

Or was it fantasy that had taught him that? He'd ask Rodney, but he didn't want to be called a cultural Neanderthal for not knowing that the meaning of life was forty-two.

"Anyone?"

The temple was silent. And quite empty too, bar the bronze statue bar the giant bull located in the centre of it. A giant, bronze bull that seemed to look down on him. Mocking him. Making him want to make a joke about cows, but not quite managing it.

"Anyone?"

Still no answer.

"Well, this is a load of bull."

The cow joke hadn't come to fruition. But he liked to think he'd milked the situation for all it was worth. And he kept thinking that as he turned around-

"Hello John."

And saw the woman standing before him.

John flinched, though managed to resist the urge to grab his weapon. So far no-one in this city had paid much head to the visitors who'd been carrying strange gear in strange garb (well, by their standards at least), and as such, he'd kept P90 slung without incident.

"Aren't you going to ask me how I know your name?" the woman asked.

John shrugged. "Ancient humans, Wraith, temples…" He trailed off. "Seems to be par for the course here."

"Indeed," the woman said. She laid out her arms in welcome. "I am the Oracle and-"

_Oh bloody hell._

"-I am here to tell you-"

"Yeah, that's great," John said. "But I've gotta get going."

He began to walk out. Oracles, soothsayers, shamans…he had no need for them. Half the Athosians treated him as if he were a god, and there was that incident on M4R-825 where…well, best not to go there. And while being treated like a god sounded nice, it made for some pretty awkward mission reports.

"Wait!" the Oracle cried out. "Do you not wish to know your destiny?"

"No," John said. "Costs too much. And the interest you pay on fate is through the roof."

"Not even the Wraith?"

He stopped. And turned around to her. And slowly, he spoke.

"What do you know about the Wraith?"

The Oracle laughed. "No more and no less than anyone else of this world."

"Which is a bit, I take it?"

"We sacrifice to the minotaur. And we hide from the Wraith." She lowered her gaze. "Such is our fate."

"Yeah, well, you mentioned destiny," said John. "So that's better than fate, right? I mean, destiny is usually used in a positive light and…"

And he trailed off again. He was rambling. For a moment, he wished Rodney was here. Rodney was an arrogant arse who took no nonsense from those he deemed intellectually inferior to him (a.k.a. anyone). And as such he'd have been the perfect person to deal with this "oracle."

"I see your destiny…" the oracle began. Her eyes glazed over, and John could swear that the temple was getting darker. Or maybe it was sunset, he couldn't tell. "You shall…defeat the Wraith."

And the lights came back on. And the Oracle looked normal again. Or at least as normal as she could.

"O…kay then," John began. "Is there anything else?"

"I am afraid not. Fate is misty, and-"

"Yeah yeah, fate's a bitch," John said. "But I mean…seriously? I'll defeat the Wraith, but you have no idea how, and no idea when."

"I am afraid that's the case."

"…don't suppose you've ever heard of a ZPM."

The look on the Oracle's face told him that she hadn't.

"Fine then," John murmured. "Well, this has been quite informative." He did a mock bow. "Well, I'll be seeing you provided that my destiny is what you say it is."

_Not bloody likely._

He walked out. Wishing again that Rodney was here.

At the least, being told he'd be the hero at the end of the day would have been worth it to see the look on his face.


End file.
